September Landscape
The natives
Columbus, the misnomer too
Must have first seen this land
In September
When the trees from seas edge
Rise to cobalt blue
Of mountain kissing skies
A solid garden
Shrieking wood in wind and rain
The land
With bleeding veins
Hemorrhaging like rivers
From the valleys
And clefts of ridge and breast
This land
Of wood and water
This Xaymaca
Now trembling
In the rains
And parting the legs of trees
With floods.
The birds are silent everywhere
And mothers for their children
Search through windows bare
The serious face
Of a wet world of despair.
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